Danny spoke on Momentum today. Leaving an inheritance and creating a momentum for the future generations to step into. Like a whirlpool. Even the people who join later on get to benefit from the work that the first people did.
When Mike and I went to a youth internship in Colorado, they took us to a hotel’s pool one night to swim. There was about 30 of us in one pool and it was fairly crowded and flirty. I had an idea while talking to Mike and decided to shout it out, “Let’s start a whirlpool!” So we did. All of us. It was fantastic and I felt like a champ for having started it, though I’m sure no one really cared who’s idea it was or even remembered for that matter. And that’s alright. It’s probably even better that way.
My dad has given, been giving and is continually giving to me an inheritance . What’s he’s already given me is a life where the supernatural is normal. Encounters with angels. Divine appointments where people think you are the angel sent to them. Waters parting so save his life. Being transported from one location to another just because he asked God what it would be like. People being healed left and right from incurable pain and disease. Miraculous provision. Money given at the exact moment of need with the exact amount needed. God showing up just because He can and He loves us.
My dad has shown me a life where God speaks all the time and I can actually hear Him. He would tell me his conversations with God all the time. And the best part was when he said with such confidence and conviction, “And then God told me…”
He’s taught me that it’s ok and even masculine to be able to say, “You are right. I’m sorry.” Once when we were about to leave the house my dad noticed my brother’s bike leaning against the wall (something he had specifically told him not to do because it messes up the paint on the wall). “Nick, I thought I told you not to lean your bike against the wall.” Nick replied, “I didn’t. Look it’s on not even touching the wall. It’s leaning on the kick stand,” which was true. Now in my experience at many of my friend’s houses or at school, adults didn’t like to be wrong. It was an insecurity. If they weren’t right and the kids were, then what wouls they possibly have over them? So even if they realized point blank that they were incorrect and that they reacted to a situation wrong, they would come up with an excuse as to why the kid still deserved scorning. But contrary to my experience, my dad’s countenance instantly changed with realization and he said, “Oh you are right. I’m sorry.” And that was that. Nick was empowered to stand up for himself because he was rewarded in doing so and I was empowered to be wrong and not be insecure about it. To bravely admit it because that’s just who I am. Because that's just who my dad is. Honorable.
He’s taught me that you can hope even in the midst of debilitating pain. In telling me of a time where he prayed for a guy with Carpel Tunnel Syndrome, he recalled sharing the empathy he had for this man, “He was in pain and I was glad to pray for him because I know pain.” My dad has known pain. These last seven or eight years since his rheumatoid arthritis started eating away at him, he has known pain. It’s like an unwelcome guest that decides to stay and you can’t do anything about it. You just learn to live, work and love around it. We told it to leave and sometimes it would. But then it’d come back bringing friends with it. Bastard. It’s gone from unwelcome guest to a Goliath, taunting a man set apart by the living God. And Goliath will be slain again.
Currently he is giving me the understanding of chivalry and that it is only dead as long as you do nothing to carry it on. Every time he able, he opens the door for my mom. And if he happens to forget or is unable to for whatever reason, he apologizes. It makes my mom feel like a queen. Now she’ll stand by the car door waiting for my dad to open it with a smile of knowing that says, “I am valued and taken care of.”
He’s given me a few mannerisms and phrases that make me chuckle every time I realize I’m doing them. I’ll put my fist to my mouth and let my index finger rest against my cheek as if it’s supporting it. He would always do this during movies. I remember sitting next to him as a kid watching Aliens together; me studying this interesting hand gesture that looked so grown up and serious. Now I use it when I’m watching a movie or sitting and listening to someone talk. I think it makes me look like smart and inquisitive.
I’ve inherited his phrase, “And then it dawned on me…” The frequency with which he uses this phrase says so much about him. He’s a man of continual revelation. Always discovering something new about the Lord, about himself, about life. It wasn’t until the very first time I used this phrase myself that “it dawned on me” what it was implying. The dawn has come. The sun is up. There is now light to see what I previously could not. It’s just so much more rich than saying, “I realized.”
I haven’t quite adopted this next quirk of my dad’s but I’ve always been amused by it. He has an uncanny ability to always end a phone conversation with the same three lines, “Ok. Alrighty. Buh bye.” Without fail! The only person who has ever been able to thwart this closer is my wife who has an extreme dislike for fluff. “If you’re done talking about what you needed to talk about then end it.” And she will immediately. But seriously, how does he do this? It seems it would require participation of the other party to make at least two closing requests to which he could then respond: First request—“Ok”—second request—“Alrighty”, and finally the mutual “Buh bye’s”. Maybe it’s not that unusual but I enjoy noticing it.
One of my favorite qualities of my dad’s that I have inherited is his generosity. He has always made it a point to give away his time, his energy or his money. Many times, all three at once. He’s been so good at this that even my little brother at the age of ten would find money and immediately start pondering about who he could give it to. He once found forty dollars and immediately decided to give it away. The story actually begins with him wanting to give money to a specific offering at church. He checked his pockets but didn’t have any so he left it up to God. A few minutes later checked his pockets again with an unusual hopefulness and found a twenty dollar bill in it. He started celebrating what he knew was a miracle and put the twenty in the offering. He then checked his other pocket for no other reason than, “What if?” and pulled out another twenty dollar bill! This he decided would go to an orphanage in Africa. My dad is the one who instilled in Nick the ability to hope for the supernatural, to believe for miracles and to have a desire to give away what he could’ve easily used on himself. That’s just who my dad is. It’s become just who Nick is. And it’s become just who I am.
